


August Angst Month

by LittleBitsofIdeas



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: A series of oneshots, Canon Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, so tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBitsofIdeas/pseuds/LittleBitsofIdeas
Summary: A series of angsty drabbles from a 30-day prompt one tumblr.





	1. Day 1: Crying

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of drabbels that I found on tumblr! I'm also posting these on my tumblr, FAHCHeadcanons
> 
> Day 1: Crying  
> 553 words  
> No Ships

____________________________________________________

He was useless. He couldn’t do anything. He was surrounded by some of the most advanced technology in history, most of which he built himself. He had computers, elaborate systems, and devices that could do anything he dreamed of at the tip of his fingers, and he couldn’t do _anything_.

All Gavin could do was sit and wait.

___________________________________________________

Five members of the crew walked into their familiar penthouse, two hours later than they were supposed to. They were tired, pissed, and just all around annoyed from their day. Their mission had _majorly_ fucked up. When planning this mission, they all somehow missed the fact there was a gas line running under the road near the jewelry store they had robbed. One explosion in the wrong place and _woosh_ , three city blocks had blown up and caught fire. They had all been speeding away in Michael’s armored car when the explosions went off, so other than sweating their asses off from the heat and coughing a little from smoke inhalation, they were pretty much unscathed.

The whole city had been shut down though, their phones and radios didn’t work, cutting them off from all contact. They had to walk miles to escape the heat alone and even further to get away from the police and firemen surrounding the scene. With every step they had to take home they grew more tired, more pissed, and more annoyed.

Finally, they got home, reeking of smoke and muscles aching. Some had been planning on just walking in and collapsing on the couch, some were going to go straight to take a shower, and some maybe on making a hard drink. What they didn’t expect when they opened the door was the _weird_ noise they heard. It was somewhere between a scream, a wail, and a laugh. Then, before they could process the noise, there was a blur of movement. Michael and Ryan found themselves being tackled, and because they hadn’t expected it they crashed to the ground.

“Gavin! What the fuck is your problem?!” Michael yelled, but his question was answered by another shocking noise. The most broken sob he had ever heard, and it came from the man clinging to him.

“I didn’t-I c-couldn’t- you g-guys w-w-were-” Another broken sob, worse than the one before as Gavin tried to take a breath, hiccuping desperately for air. Michael looked up at the others, more than confused. Everyone else was frozen too. No one knew what to do.

Ryan, still collapsed next to Michael on the floor, slowly reached out to Gavin. He put a hand on his back, with more softness and care than could be expected from him. “You, you were that worried about us?”

Everything became clear with that sentence. They had left Gavin alone, with nothing but the echoes of their yells and the tv news feed. Everyone else dropped to the floor alongside the three men, each pulling Gavin to them until they were a tangled mess. Gavin cried harder, grateful that his family had returned home to him, and the others started crying too.

They might’ve been tired, pissed, annoyed, but most of all they were relieved to be back home.


	2. Day 2: Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 575 Words  
> No Ships

______________

“Trevor, Trevor come on. Just a little while longer.”

It had been at least a week, Ryan knew. It had been at least a week since a simple surveying job had turned into a major gunfight. One that they lost.

They were in a cellar of some kind. The ground under them was damp and cold, the concrete gritting into his skin. Ryan’s hands were tied behind his back, they had been for days because he fought back one too many times. His shoulders and his back were numb from pain by this point, his wrists were rubbed raw and were bloody from the rope around them. One of his legs was wrapped and bounded, hiding crude stitches that only kept him from bleeding out. He was shivering, teeth chattering slightly.

The worst thing though was the horrible, vicious twisting in his stomach from having gone so long without food. He couldn’t be sure how long they had been in there anymore, he had been passed out when they first arrived and had only lost track of time more since then. Where was his team, why weren’t they saving him?

_Saving them?_

 

Trevor was far worse. He never had the strength to fight back in the first place, so he wasn’t tied up. Instead, he laid as a crumpled mess next to Ryan, curled around his legs slightly trying to take in what little heat Ryan had to spare, his head resting on Ryan’s ankles. Trevor had taken a bullet to his side, too shallow to have hit anything vital, but enough to make him lose more blood than Ryan would’ve believed he could’ve survived. Mix that with the lack of food, and Trevor was practically begging for death to take him.

_Where were the fucking guys already?_

“Trevor, buddy, come on, keep talking.”

“Wha?” A soft response, barely there, but a response none the less.

“You were telling me about how Jeremy convinced you to rollerblade down the highway.”

“Oh…right. Hurt.”

“I, yeah, I bet buddy.” Ryan crossed his fingers, metaphorically, that Trevor was still telling the story and wasn’t just telling Ryan he was in pain. Ryan knew he was in pain, he knew more of Trevor’s pain than his own. “How did he convince you again? That seems like a pretty stupid idea.”

“Mmhm.” Was all the answer he got. Trevor was fading from him fast, and Ryan couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even hold him, comfort him while he died. Trevor was left cold and broken on the ground.

Ryan was cursing every God he could remember the name of, and then a few he made up for good measure. Trevor was good. He was one of the only good ones they had. He was a behind the scenes guy; he did their recon but he never went out for a real job. Ryan had just been bored and decided to tag along, and he ended up ruining it all. Trevor’s blood was on his hands, and Ryan swore to himself he’d never forgive himself.

Well, he was in the middle of swearing it when the most tremendous noise came from above them. The thunder of gunfire, the yells of orders from very familiar voices. Ryan looked down at the small boy. “Trevor, Trevor come on. Just a little while longer. They’re here, they’ll take care of you. You’ll be alright, just stay with me, okay? Just a little while longer.”


	3. Day 3: Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Nightmare  
> 575 Words
> 
>  
> 
> Implied Character Death

Michael was trapped. He didn’t know why he was trapped, there was nothing around him but blackness, but he couldn’t move. Something bad was happening. Something horribly, terrifyingly bad.   
  
Michael started crying. The tears burned like fire down his body and made him cry harder. Soon the crying captured his whole body and he couldn’t stop it.   
  
From somewhere in the darkness surrounding him a terrible noise came. Someone was coming towards him. He couldn’t see them, he couldn’t hear them, but he knew they were coming.  
  
And suddenly Michael was surrounded.  
  
It was his crew, his friends, his family, but they weren’t. They were evil and twisted versions of themselves. They had no life to them. Each of them was white and faded, but Michael could still see the vivid red of blood that poured from each of them. Each step they took closer to him made the room colder and colder.  
  
 _How could you let this happen?  
_  
It wasn’t spoken to him, yet Michael heard the question anyway. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t mean for it to happen!”  
  
 _You killed us! You killed all of us!  
_  
Their steps toward Michael made him want to shrivel up, to curl into a ball and hide until they were gone, but he still couldn’t move. It felt like his bones had frozen. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It was an accident! It shouldn’t have happened!”  
  
 _You murdered us!_  
  
 _“_ **I** **’m sorry!** _”_  
  
They grabbed him, and Michael screamed. He could feel their pain. The explosion was his fault. He made the bomb wrong. He blew up the five people he cared about more than anything, he had  _failed_ them, and they were here to make him pay for it.  
  
Michael screamed, and screamed, and-”

____________________________________  
  
“Michael! Michael, wake up! Fucking idiot come on!”  
  
Geoff wasn’t proud of it, but the kid was screaming bloody murder and wasn’t waking up, so he did the only thing he could think of; he slapped him as hard as he could.  
  
Michael shot up, sitting up fully and grabbing on to Geoff like his life depended on it, gasping for air like he’d been drowning. His eyes were wilded as he whipped his head around. Jack, who had been standing next to the bed, gently reached out to put Michael’s glasses on him.  
  
Michael blinked hard a few times. The light of his bedside lamp was almost blinding after the darkness he’d just been in. His chest and throat burned, and he could still hear his own screaming echoing through his head. It took him more than a few minutes for him to realize he was in his bed, and that the men standing around him were alive and worried, not dead and vengeful.  
  
“I thought- I dreamt-  _Fuck_.”   
  
Geoff just nodded, understandingly, and climbed on to the bed next to him. “We’ve all been there kid.” He said with such warmth and gentleness that fresh tears filled Michael’s eyes once again. Suddenly Michael found himself being wrapped in not one but five hugs.and he could think again.  
  
They were alive. He hadn’t killed them. Their touch was warm and safe again, not cold and painful. He could see them all, everyone looking at him with concern and understanding in their eyes as they all tried to comfort him. He was home, everything was okay. It was just a nightmare.

____


End file.
